


Achilles Come Down

by elysianfieIds



Category: Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: -Ish, Achilles Come Down, Also Inspired by Ransom by David Malouf, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ancient Greece, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Character Study, Death, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, Feels, Ghost Patroclus, Grief/Mourning, Grieving Achilles, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Inspired by The Song of Achilles, M/M, Not Beta Read, One Shot, Relationship Study, Songfic, Suicidal Thoughts, The Song of Achilles References, Trojan War, editing is for chumps, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:28:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28046199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elysianfieIds/pseuds/elysianfieIds
Summary: Moonlight glistening on the ocean water behind Achilles, Troy is lit in the distance—a beacon of war and hatred that fuels Achilles with a wrath akin to the gods above. The great warrior, built golden and strong, stands on the rooftop of a three-story farmhouse on the outskirts of a village, wine sloshing in his goblet, hanging from the tips of his fingers preciously. Ebbing pain consumes Achilles’ entire being as he stares. A dangerous concoction of guilt, grief and grievous rage boiling the seeping red blood found deep within his marble bones. He is no longer human. Only a beast of instinct and brutality now that he’s lost the last good, human, thing that kept him moving. Fighting. But now, he is left with nothing.A one shot inspired by the song, Achilles Come Down by Gang of Youths. Set post-Patroclus' death. Promise he's actually in it.
Relationships: Achilles/Patroclus, Achilles/Patroclus (Song of Achilles)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 72





	Achilles Come Down

Moonlight glistening on the ocean water behind Achilles, Troy is lit in the distance—a beacon of war and hatred that fuels Achilles with a wrath akin to the gods above. The great warrior, built golden and strong, stands on the rooftop of a three-story farmhouse on the outskirts of a village, wine sloshing in his goblet, hanging from the tips of his fingers preciously. Ebbing pain consumes Achilles’ entire being as he stares. A dangerous concoction of guilt, grief and grievous rage boiling the seeping red blood found deep within his marble bones. He is no longer human. Only a beast of instinct and brutality now that he’s lost the last good, human, thing that kept him moving. Fighting. But now, he is left with nothing.

The thought is tempting: to end it all then and there, to let his hair whip against his face as the world turns black and all the pain comes to an end. No more guilt. No more grief. No more grievous rage slowing poisoning the last remains of his golden soul. They could meet again. Him and Patroclus, bound together on the fields of Elysium, with nothing but love and time at their fingertips.

His foot hangs in the air. Then, needing to move, to think, Achilles stands.

“Achilles, come down.”

Surprise causes him to stumble, grappling and grasping for something to hold onto as the goblet falls, crashing and tumbling to the ground. The metal bends in on itself as it lands on a rock, forever changed. He finds a perch, feet planted firmly on the roof and hand on the sword at his belt, chin snapping around to face the lullaby of a familiar voice.

Achilles refuses to look. “You’re not real.”

He grasps another kylix, blacken and chipped, pouring himself another drink of wine. It doesn’t sooth him as the liquid falls down his throat, instead thickens the flames of grief burning within him.

“Achilles, I am here. Get off the roof.”

Achilles shakes his head, childish and insistent. “You’re nothing.” He chokes on a laugh. “I am nothing without you.”

“Achilles, can you hear me?”

He stumbles, closer to the edge, pouring more wine down his throat as he goes. Closer and closer, Achilles gets, his hope dying with each staggering step.

“Achilles,” the melody is firm but pleading, the lick of a voice he’d never forget. A voice he never thought he’d hear again. They’re nearer this time. Achilles pauses, just for a moment. “Look at me. Please, look at me. You’re scaring me.”

He expects nothing but thin air as he finally turns. Golden hair clouding his already jaded gaze, Achilles chokes on his own breath, eyes welling with the tears of unanswered grief. He has to grasp the roof to keep himself steady, knees crashing against the brick as he collapses. His legs echo with ebbing pain. Patroclus, though pale and flitting in the air like static; half there and half in Hades’ kingdom, stands before him with similar tears welling in his molten eyes. The beast within Achilles breaks, severs in half.

“You’re not real.” Achilles heaves. “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re not fucking real.”

Patroclus, already slipped from existence, steps forward. “I’m real.”

“You gods are trying to trick me.” Achilles’ fist cracks the brick beneath it, slamming down in a moment of undistllled, god-like wrath. His eyes burn, made of molten flames. “Just finish what you came here to do and be done with it.”

Moving, Patroclus cradles a careful hand on Achilles cheek, thumb stroking the soft, scarred skin of his cheekbone. “Remember the pact of our youth.”

A tear tracks down Achilles face: remembering the days of simpler times; lakes and forests; spears and medicines on Mount Pelion. “That we will always meet again.”

Patroclus nods softly. “Always.”

“I failed you.” The words come out like a broken whisper. The poetry of war and grief. “I let you go. It was me who let you die.”

Shaking his head, Patroclus presses their foreheads together. “No, no, no, my love. You did not. You cannot control the fates and what they have planned for us. No matter who you are to this world. You can’t escape prophecy. We both knew what we were travelling to.”

Achilles holds Patroclus close, pressing chest to chest; forehead to forehead. He never wants to let go. A plea slips past his honey lips. “Don’t leave me.”

“Hades, help me.” Patroclus murmurs in amused exasperation. He pulls away slightly, tapping Achilles chest over his heart. “I’ll never leave you. I’m always right here.”

“It’s a dangerous thing to love,” Achilles places his hand over Patroclus’, the cold seeping through his shirt. “Even more dangerous than war. That’s what Thetis always said.” He sucks in a breath, gathering strength. “She was right.”

“It’s your strength,” Patroclus says, words muffled by Achilles’ golden strands of hair.

“It makes me weak.” Achilles nose furrows in disgust, temples pounding with the resonating sounds of self-hatred. “There is nothing I can do for the Greeks without you by my side.”

Patroclus jams his cold fingers in Achilles jawline, pulling his chin up to look him in the eye. “There is nothing weak about you. You are the strongest of all of us, Achilles. There is no god on this earth that could take that away. No matter how hard they try.”

Achilles looks away, but Patroclus pulls him back.

“And you will finish what you have started.” Patroclus’ tone remains firm. “You can let me go, only for now. We will see each other once again, the Elysuin Fields call our names together in prosperous song. And Fate will cut ties when they are ready for you, but there is so much more that you need to do. Fulfil your promise to Greece, to the innocents you protect, and then you can come back to me.”

“You promise?” Broken, yet filled with love, Achilles whispers the question.

“I promise.” Patroclus replies, pressing a kiss to his hair. “Come down with me, and all will be well.”

Together, they stand once more, and journey one last time.


End file.
